


Big Love

by Black_piano_keys



Category: Original Work
Genre: Bestiality, Fur Kink, Interspecies Sex, M/M, Manhandling, Mythical Beings & Creatures, Other, Outdoor Sex, Size Difference, Size Kink, Smut4Smut Assignment, Xeno
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-24
Updated: 2020-03-24
Packaged: 2021-02-28 18:27:24
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,711
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23291689
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Black_piano_keys/pseuds/Black_piano_keys
Summary: Tom Shelton's looking for a little pick-me-up sex at a rest stop to help him stay awake for the rest of his trip. Instead, something finds him and changes everything he thought he knew.
Relationships: Male Long-Haul Truck Driver/Male Bigfoot, Original Male Character/Original Male Character, Original Male Character/Original Male Non-Human Character
Comments: 8
Kudos: 57
Collections: Smut 4 Smut 2020





	Big Love

**Author's Note:**

  * For [sweetcarolanne](https://archiveofourown.org/users/sweetcarolanne/gifts).



Tom Shelton rubbed the back of his hand over his eyes and blinked rapidly at the mostly empty road. A peppering of cars and other semis made nighttime driving more peaceful than the crowded highways during the day, but that peacefulness made it a lot easier for his thoughts to drift, and his eyelids to droop. 

He was ahead of schedule for a change. He ought to find a parking lot and nap for a couple of hours so he’d be more alert for the final leg of the drive. 

_Or I could do something else to wake myself up._

In bed, an orgasm was a sure means to quick sleeping and pleasant dreams. But the first time he’d gotten lucky on the road, he couldn’t believe how much it energized him. Maybe it was the thrill of stranger sex, or maybe the freedom of being who he really was away from anybody who knew him. Whatever it was, he loved it. 

Fuck parking and sleeping. He was a few miles away from one of the rest stops well-known among truckers as a hook-up spot. It was as secluded as a place like that could get, sitting off a stretch of highway that never seemed too busy through the night, with nothing on the other side but trees.

Several months ago he’d stopped at three a.m. to take a leak and an eager bear cub who went by “Jake” and wore a Phish T-shirt under a ratty denim vest had given him the best road head of his life. If he got off half that good tonight, it’d be enough to get him where he needed to go, probably without a single yawn. 

He pulled his flannel shirt over his T-shirt and buttoned it up. Only one truck was parked and no cars, which didn’t bode well for Tom’s chances of an encounter. Unless the other trucker was in the restroom waiting and hoping for the same thing as Tom. It happened that way from time to time. 

Last time it happened that way for Tom he’d walked in and gotten what he’d really been craving. The man never gave his name. He’d had muscles everywhere and towered over Tom’s nearly six-foot-height by at least four or five inches. Dark hair peeked out of the collar of his T-shirt, his beard was neatly trimmed, and he’d been hoping for somebody like Tom to walk in. 

Tom always thought the muscular ones were probably compensating for a lack of dick, but not that guy. He’d been at least eight or nine inches long hard, his cock thicker than any Tom had personally laid eyes on. _Hung like an animal_ had passed through his excited brain when the guy had unzipped and let himself spring free. 

Neither had lube, and spit hadn’t really been enough. Tom had stood, facing the toilet with his hands splayed against the sides of the stall with the guy pushing into him from behind and groaning that he was _so fuckin’ tight_. 

“You can take a big cock, can’t you?” he’d grunted into Tom’s ear, but Tom had only hung his head in a nod and tried to relax while the man’s hand slid under his shirt to press against his stomach, and his other groped Tom’s balls. “You’re tough enough to take it.”

Tom had been, and the guy had been driving into him, nearly bringing him off his feet by the end. He’d come harder than he had in a while, but he’d paid for it with a sore ass that made the last couple of days of that trip less than fantastic. He’d kept extra lube in his kit ever since, in a small tube he could slip into his pocket. 

He did that now and hopped out of the truck, his cock hardening in anticipation of what he hoped would be a quick, hot fuck he could think about the rest of the drive. And if he ended up a _little_ tender here or there, that would only make him less liable to drift off behind the wheel. 

The restroom was empty. Tom pissed and waited a few minutes, fingering the tiny tube in his pocket hopefully. Movement outside the entrance sent a shiver down his back. He stepped into one of the few stalls, unbuttoned his jeans and used a generous squirt of the lube on his fingertips to get himself ready in case the other trucker was impatient. 

A semi engine turned over. He fastened his jeans and stepped out to see the lone truck from the lot pulling back onto the highway. 

_Damn._

Jacking off wouldn’t have the same effect. He’d be sleepier afterward. He could do it and nap in the truck, but disappointment made him more eager to get back, deliver his load, and within a few hours potentially be asleep in his own bed. The cooler night air helped wake him up a little, too. His flannel shirt was just enough. He hadn’t needed a proper jacket for a couple of days. 

He bought a soda from one of the vending machines--a Mountain Dew, which he didn’t really like much, but had a lot of caffeine and sugar. When it ran out, he’d stop at a gas station and get a couple of their biggest coffees to see him through. 

Tom headed back to his truck, and someone grunted far behind him. He _thought_ someone grunted. Maybe somebody cleared his throat. It was definitely a guy. A sound like someone pushing their way through brush came from behind the restrooms, and another sound came, softer, like the throat-clearer moving away from him. 

The bushes behind the building gave way to trees after about twenty yards, then it was all forest and bluffs beyond that until you hit the river. If there were roads or any kind of development back there, Tom didn’t know about it. It was unlikely anybody was messing around in those woods tonight. Though maybe a camper decided to use an actual toilet rather than squatting in the woods. 

“Hello?” Was there another eager beaver like Jake hiding back there who preferred fucking around in the woods instead of a dirty bathroom? Other less innocent options flashed through his mind, like a murderer waiting for some dumbass trucker alone at a rest stop to investigate the sounds he made to lure him in. 

The rustling came closer, and the dim light coming from a pole several yards away shone back at him from a pair of eyes looking over the top of a tall bush. Somebody was standing on a box or a stepladder to peer over that bush, or they were at least seven feet tall. They had at least a foot on him. Maybe more.

Another soft grunt came, and with a move that rattled the whole bush, the eyes disappeared. 

“Hey!”

Pushing thoughts of a seven-foot grunting murderer out of his mind, Tom hurried around the side of the building, doubting what he’d seen at all. People’s eyes didn’t glimmer like that in the light, did they?

“Hey, you!” he shouted, for lack of anything better to shout. He pushed his way through the bush the guy had looked over and had to reassess. Seven feet had been an underestimate. Somebody had to stand closer to eight feet to see over the top. Which wasn’t possible. 

The hairs on the back of Tom’s neck stood up. He turned to rush to his truck, when a distinct grunt, almost a growl, came from behind him. How had an animal gotten that close without him knowing?

“Easy,” he said, almost too scared to turn, but he managed to twist his neck enough to see a dark figure behind him at his left side. He stared into what looked like dark brown fur. He had to tilt his head to look up enough to find the face staring down at him. Dark eyes that glinted when the light hit them. More dark fur, and dark lips peeled back to reveal a row of blunt teeth. The fur on its head hung down into its face, which was dark and leathery. _Like an ape’s._

Its mouth formed an ‘o’ and it chuffed at him, then bared its teeth and made the same growl-like noise again. One hand thumped the creature’s chest. The other reached for Tom and closed around the back of his neck. 

“Motherfucker,” Tom breathed, his muscles going limp with fear as the creature jerked Tom toward it. 

It lifted him by the back of his neck and one thigh, not quite in a bridal carry but nearly so, held Tom against its chest, then ran. The rest stop grew smaller in Tom’s bouncing vision and was nearly gone by the time he thought to shout, “Help!”

The creature grunted and growled, the sound a cross between zoo sounds he’d heard--grunts and calls from the ape house and the roar of an angry lion. Adrenaline pumped through him, finally kicking in his fight or flight response. 

_The one I was too stupid to have a minute ago._

He pushed against the hard, furry chest in a struggle to get free. The creature held him tighter and grunted a warning. 

Tom’s options seemed narrowed to waiting to see what was going to happen. He couldn’t fight and free himself. The strength in the thick arms that held him tight and the iron grip of its hands made it easy to see how weak he was by comparison. 

He clutched the coarse fur at the creature’s side and shoulder, hung on and waited to see what it meant to do with him. He tried to relax and take deep breaths, saving his strength for the next chance he had to break free and bolt, though it could be on him in a second, he guessed. The fur on the creature’s shoulder pressed against his cheek. He would have expected the smell to be unpleasant. It wasn’t. The scent was wild, gamey, a sort of musk mixed with pine and crisp fall leaves. 

The creature carried him for what had to be at least a few miles, the last of it mostly uphill. When they stopped, it let go so suddenly Tom didn’t get his feet underneath him right and stumbled backward. The creature lunged. 

_This is it. It’s going to kill me and eat me._

But it grabbed his shoulders and hauled him forward, which kept him from slamming down onto his ass. It lowered him more gently into a sitting position and made the occasional sound like a man with an impossibly deep voice saying, “ _Hmmmm_.”

It squatted in front of his feet and gently slapped one hand against its chest while making that sound. 

“Uh . . . thanks?” It had caught him to keep him from falling. Either it didn’t want its meal bruised up, or it didn’t mean to hurt him, after all. 

It grunted in response and nudged Tom’s leg with its knuckles. They sat in a small clearing surrounded by surprisingly squat trees, except one small space that rose up like a bluff wall. Moonlight and the fact that the creature was right next to him gave him a much better view. 

_Bigfoot._

What other explanation could there be? He really was staring into the eyes of an honest to god Bigfoot.

It stood and rose to its full height. Jesus Christ, it was eight feet tall if it was an inch, covered in thick fur head to toe, only its face and palms covered in dark, leathery skin, and a patch of its chest and belly. Probably the soles of its feet (it’s _big_ feet, Tom thought giddily) were smooth, though the tops look fur-covered, too.

“You’re . . . tall,” he squeaked out. The creature tilted its head and beat its chest with a few higher pitched grunts. Then it jumped over his legs and squatted next to him, so close Tom leaned away to keep them from colliding. A dark finger prodded gently at his mouth. 

He leaned away, but the creature followed him down until Tom lay on his back with two thick fingers pushing past his lips to press on his tongue. He grabbed its wrist and pushed, afraid of choking if it kept going, but he couldn’t budge it. The fingers didn’t go further, though. They wiggled against his tongue for a few seconds as the creature leaned in to sniff around his mouth. 

Tom froze, unsure what to do or what was going to happen. It pressed its face against his neck and inhaled noisily, its tongue slipping out to test his skin in a few places, then sniffed its way down his body until it reached his crotch. 

It pressed its knuckles against the fly of his jeans and let its hand bounce there a few times before it grabbed Tom’s hip and flipped him onto his side. It pressed its face against his ass and sniffed, its chest rumbling. 

_Holy shit, holy fucking--_

The creature jumped back, bouncing and chuffing, then paced in a half circle around Tom, side to side, almost as if showing off for him. It alternated between beating its chest and reaching down to roughly tug at his ankle or his pant leg, dragging him a couple of inches in that direction each time. 

_What’s it want me to do? What the hell do I do?_

After several trips from one side of Tom to the other, it straddled his outstretched legs and pounded its hands against its chest, and what it wanted Tom to do became apparent. 

A dark pink cock pushed out of the fur between its legs. It rose, a slow point upward at him, as the wet-looking skin revealed itself inch by incredibly thick inch. The more it rose, the more Tom could see that what still hung down were the creature’s huge balls, like two grapefruits in a tight, furry pouch. 

When its cock bounced upward, fully erect, aiming at a spot well above Tom’s head, it looked as big as a dark forearm jutting from a field of fur. 

The head was shaped just like a human dick, but darker and damp-looking in the moonlight. The creature brought his hand down against himself, sending his cock bouncing as it grunted and bared its teeth at Tom. 

A real-life Bigfoot stood in front of him with the most amazing hard-on he could ever have imagined, and it . . . _wanted_ him?

Wait, that had to be wrong. The biggest apes had the smallest dicks. He remembered that from high school biology or some wildlife documentary. One this size wouldn’t have a cock so big it put human men to shame. 

_I fell asleep before I got back on the road. I’m still sitting in the rig, forehead against the wheel, snoring and drooling onto my knees._

The creature grabbed both of Tom’s pant legs at the ankles and jerked repeatedly, snapping him backward. He managed to keep his head from smacking the ground, but barely. It gave up on that tactic and grabbed him at the hips, yanking and tugging, making guttural _ohn ohn ohn_ sounds. 

“No, no, that’s not a--that can’t--” Tom pushed at its hands and tried to crab crawl backwards away from it, but it was in complete control. All of his efforts to move away and stop the relentless hands were useless, but he kept trying. 

With a yank, one of the buttons of his jeans popped. It was going to tear his clothes off if he didn’t take them off, and that didn’t bode well for what might happen after this was over. 

_If I survive._ He clamped down on that thought. 

Hiking back to the rest stop naked didn’t appeal, so he shouted, “Wait!” 

To his relief, the creature stopped and stared at him as if trying to understand. Maybe the distress in his voice had done it. It hadn’t wanted him to fall earlier, after all. Maybe he’d get out of this unscathed? 

Before he could start to remove anything, the Bigfoot had straddled his hips and dropped low enough that Tom felt some of its weight. It could crush him so easily, but instead it leaned forward and rocked its hips, sliding its cock against his stomach and chest while making those _ohn ohn_ sounds. It pounded one fist against the ground close to Tom’s head, but he realized it wasn’t to threaten him. It braced and thrust harder against Tom, the front of his flannel shirt growing damp as it rubbed against him. 

Its other hand grabbed the front of Tom’s shirt and yanked, popping the buttons and leaving only his T-shirt between him and the creature. Before it could tear that away, Tom pulled it up to bare his stomach and chest. The heat of the creature’s cock against him caught him by surprise. 

Something else surprised him, too. When it rocked forward, its cock sliding over his skin and its weight bearing down on his hips, Tom should have been pissing himself with fear. Should have been long before now. 

He was scared, a little, not nearly as much as he should be. _But he was also hard as a fucking tree._ How was that even possible in this situation? How could he like any of this enough to get aroused? 

It had started when he realized he couldn’t pull himself free of the creature as it ran with him in its arms. He’d chalked it up to adrenaline then. His body on alert with fear. He supposed that could do things to your dick. 

Now there was no doubt he was turned on as fuck by this Bigfoot who had him pinned down, rutting against him with its huge, thick cock. 

Tom didn’t know what to think of any of it or himself. Maybe not thinking was the answer. He couldn’t get out from under it, and couldn’t really stop anything it wanted to do. _Even if I wanted to_ echoed through his mind. Because maybe, deep down, he didn’t want to stop it. 

With a swallow, Tom put his hands on the furred thighs that pinned him in and let his fingers sink into it, to feel the fur and the skin beneath. It was coarse but comforting, and the warmth of it combined with that wild, musky scent seemed almost familiar, though it couldn’t be. That familiarity, the rightness of it, set him at ease. 

And excited him more. 

He risked putting one hand on top of the cock still pressing against his skin. The creature tossed its head back and chuffed a few times. So Tom stroked his hand back and forth, helping him along, his own neglected, throbbing cocked trapped uncomfortably behind his fly. 

As the creature leaned down, bending it’s wide back to come nearly face to face with Tom, it thrust frantically enough between his hand and his chest that it inched forward until each thrust slapped the underside of Tom’s chin. 

Now he was more scared. If it got above him and pushed itself into his mouth, choking seemed a real possibility. A few inches of it would fill his mouth to capacity, and he’d never been much of a deep-throater. He couldn’t take all of it. 

As the creature pushed more, its cock sliding up over his jaw, Tom pushed gently and said, “No!”

It didn’t stop, but didn’t keep advancing. 

“Not like this,” he tried to explain, no idea if the creature could understand him at all. “I can’t--”

It bounced up, pounding its chest furiously. It grabbed Tom’s hips and flipped him onto his stomach, thick fingers hooking in the waistband of his jeans and yanking, which served to drag him a foot at a time as it tried to remove his pants. 

“Wait, _wait_ ,” he cried out and unfastened his jeans. He managed to kick off one boot to help as the creature wrenched his jeans down to his calves. He got his sock foot out but the other boot kept the jeans from being pulled free. He pushed his underwear down, too late. The creature yanked at them, the material tearing away, jerking him up enough to catch himself with his hands and knees.

_Oh my god oh my god this is really going to happen._

A hot tongue twisted against the back of his shoulder, and the fear of being eaten flared up again. But it moved down his back and then swirled against one of his ass cheeks, putting that fear to bed. 

He thought of its massive cock and he thanked whatever goddesses protected horny truckers that he’d already lubed himself up when he thought he might get a good fucking by a big hairy stud in the rest stop bathroom. 

He laughed aloud. This wasn’t the rest stop bathroom, and maybe it wasn’t the big hairy stud he’d originally pictured, but he thought a Bigfoot qualified.

As for the good fucking . . .

The tongue slipped between his cheeks and pushed into him, followed by a finger, or maybe a thumb. His whole body twitched in reaction. Whatever it was, it was bigger than most of the men he’d been with. It was already like having a cock inside him. 

Tom was spread open with fingers or thumbs, and a hot tongue lapped across him. He almost fell forward onto his face, lost in the sensation. He pushed back, willing to be speared by whatever the creature offered, and felt the huge round head of its cock press against his hole. 

He sucked in a deep breath and willed himself to relax. He’d never been with anyone this big, had never seen anyone nearly this huge, but he _had_ slicked himself before going into that rest stop bathroom. It’d be okay as long as the creature didn’t just impale him in one huge thrust. 

The way an animal might, he realized. 

Tom hissed as his hole stretched around the cock pushing inside him, too fast, too much. “Slow, go--go _slow_!” 

If it slammed forward Tom was sure it’d split him in two. But his shout worked. The creature stilled, its meaty fingers digging into his hips, squeezing and scratching there, as if stopping were a challenge it could barely endure. 

Tom reached back and covered one of its hands with his, then looked over his shoulder at it. “Slow,” he said with a nod, and as if it understood him, the cock pushed deeper inside him, but at a pace he could take a lot easier. 

He remembered the muscled guy rasping in his ear, _you can take a big cock_ , while not really caring if Tom could or not. This was different. The creature, the _Bigfoot_ he reminded himself, seemed to care whether or not Tom could handle it. Maybe that was him rationalizing what was happening, a delusion, but he wasn’t going to argue with the feeling. 

He had to beg it to wait twice more--and it did--before he felt soft fur pressed against his ass, and the whole-body sensitive sensation of being filled up in a way he’d never experienced before. 

Tom’s cock stood straighter than it ever had, his balls drawn tight enough against his body they felt like hot marbles between his legs. His knees and palms burned where he pressed against the ground, a counterweight to the creature pushing against him. Into him. 

“Oh my god,” he croaked. “Jesus--”

The creature pulled back, its cock sliding almost completely out of it before thrusting deeper again, the full length of its cock filling him to the hilt. He grunted, sounding as much like a Bigfoot as the creature did. His wordless noises followed every slow thrust as each one lit up sensitive places and nerve endings inside him he didn’t know he had. 

_I could come just from this._

Without ever touching his cock, if it kept dragging inside him like that, fucking him helpless and open like that, he could come from that alone. 

Fur pressed against his back, and blunt teeth clamped down on his shoulder, a tongue swirling against his skin. It hurt, but in a dull, offhanded sort of way. A pleasant way. It was nothing compared to the burning stretch in his ass, but the bite was hard enough he’d bruise tomorrow. 

It’s claiming me, he thought crazily. Leaving its mark. 

Tom’s cock throbbed at the idea. 

The creature’s arms wrapped around him and held him in place as it pumped faster into him, filling him with each thrust, making him feel more claimed, more fucked, than anyone ever had. 

Tom’s arms couldn’t hold him up anymore, so he let his shoulders drop and his forehead rest on his hands so that his ass was in the air. The creature grunted and chuffed, snapping its hips faster, then it lifted Tom so that he was on his knees with his back leaned against the hard, huge body. It fucked up into him, rattling his bones with each thrust and threatening to lift him off the ground. He clutched the furry forearms clamped around him and hung on. 

It’s big fist bounced against his cock. Tom cried out in surprise at the shock and pleasure of it. It didn’t take him in hand, but slapped against his cock, sending it bouncing. It lifted Tom’s cock, carefully at first, then slapped it up with hooked fingers to smack against Tom’s stomach and the creature’s furry forearm. 

“Oh god . . .”

It grunted and fucked him hard, its hand slapping Tom’s cock up against his stomach completely out of sync with the movement of its cock inside him. Tom leaned back against the creature, let it squeeze him against it tight with its strong arm, and gave himself over to being fucked and touched this way. 

_Onh ohn ohn_ rumbled against ear, and one more knock of its hand against him and Tom was shouting wordlessly, howling in pleasure as muscles spasmed and his cock emptied itself against his stomach, into the air, over the dark fur of the Bigfoot. He clenched around the hardness inside him, sure he would have shot off him like a rocket if not for the arm clamped across him, holding him in place. 

A high-pitched shriek sounded behind him as the creature pounded into him and froze there, thicker than Tom imagined he’d ever be able to take, stretching him to his absolute limit. After another grunt, it twitched, snapping into him fast and shallow. Wet heat ran down Tom’s thighs. 

The ground rushed toward him as the creature let itself drop forward with Tom beneath him, but the arm held him tight and kept him from slamming down. Tom put his hands out and held himself up as the creature knelt behind him and clutched at his hips, fucking him in quick, hard strokes, still caught in its own pleasure. 

Slicked with its come, thoroughly fucked like he’d never been in his life, Tom breathed deeply whimpered at the ripples of pleasure each thrust rocketed through him. 

When the Bigfoot slowed, Tom wanted to collapse on the ground, pull his knees up to his chest, and just _be_ for a minute. He seemed to have reached his capacity for feeling anything, and needed to rest, regroup, and make sense of the surreal situation he found himself in. 

It’s cock still fully inside him, the creature listed to the side and dropped hard to the ground, cushioning Tom’s impact by holding him tight to his body. Its thick fingers stroked his stomach, toyed with his softening cock, flicked his sensitive balls. He flinched at the contact, then laughed. 

“Easy, buddy,” he said, then felt stupid for saying it, but the way the creature curled close around him and chuffed, he thought maybe it understood. 

Its arms held him tight, and the musky scent of the creature and warmth of its fur eased Tom to sleep. 

***

He woke as he’d fallen asleep--his jeans hanging off him only thanks to one boot, underwear torn away, his now buttonless flannel shirt open and, along with his T-shirt, hitched up to his armpits. His ass and thighs were slick, and his back was cold. He lay alone on the grass and leaves, the moon dropping in the sky with the sun sure to follow it up. 

How long had he been out? 

He sat up, the tenderness in his ass reminding him of everything that had happened, and despite the strangeness of it all, Tom smiled. The spot where he lay was brighter because of the new angle of the moon, and next to him lay a pile of various things including a backpack that wasn’t his.

He opened it to find a Hostess Cupcake and two Twinkies still in their wrappers, a compass, strike-anywhere matches, two lighters, a paperback of a James Patterson novel, two bottles of water, and several condoms. Some camper somewhere who’d planned to get lucky was shit out of luck now that the Bigfoot had stolen their gear. 

He cracked one of the bottles and took several gulps before tightly replacing the cap. 

What looked like berries on thin branches, a couple dirty knots of something that looked kind of like ginger root and several leaves were piled next to the backpack. Was that what the Bigfoot ate? Were these offerings in thanks for the sex? 

Were these gifts for its new mate?

Tom laughed at himself, then realized it was no sillier than the idea of running into a Bigfoot at all, especially one that wanted to fuck you silly. And that had actually happened to him. The creature wooing him after the fact . . . well, how many of his random human encounters had bought him dinner before, or brought it to him after? 

The sound of something moving through the underbrush drew his attention. The dark, hulking shape of Bigfoot appeared at the edge of the clearing, and Tom marveled again at how tall and wide it was. It moved slowly, almost lumbering, nothing like the graceful speed with which it had carried him here. 

It was hesitant now, he realized. And somehow that charmed him even more. 

When it reached him, it crouched near his shoulder and rapped its knuckles against the backpack and the pile of leaves and roots, grunting softly. 

“Thank you,” Tom said. He held up a partially smashed Twinkie in its wrapper. “Thanks very much.” 

It stared at him, waiting, so he unwrapped the Twinkie and took a bite. “Mmm.” He pulled a hunk of it off and offered it. The creature leaned toward it, sniffed, and let its tongue slip out to touch the white cream filling. It jerked back, shaking its head, and huffed. 

“Not a Twinkie fan? Fair enough. It’s not really food.” Tom finished the cake, dark eyes on him, taking in every move. He didn’t lick his fingers like he might have done otherwise--his hands, every part of him, felt filthy--but rubbed his fingers against his flannel shirt. 

The sky was lightening above them, the sun sure to appear within minutes. The creature didn’t move, but looked him up and down, scrutinizing him in a way no one had before. Then it gently pushed him onto his back and crouched next to his hip. It gripped his cock and balls together in its great fist. 

“Whoa . . . hey.” Tom put a hand up, but it didn’t squeeze or pull, simply held him as if it wanted to see what it felt like. One good yank and it could rip him apart, which made every gentle touch a surprise. 

Heat built between Tom’s legs, and the creature rubbed its knuckles against Tom’s cock as it filled, patted his balls with curious fingers. 

Why was it exciting and not terrifying to be prodded and handled like he was a curiosity by something that could hurt him so easily? A shout and a plea here and there had caused it to slow down and be more gentle with him, but if that hadn’t worked, he’d have been helpless to stop anything it did. He was helpless now, really, being gently manhandled this way. He still should be terrified. 

Like a slap, the answer hit him. He trusted it. God knew why, but Tom trusted this creature meant him no harm. In fact, it meant the opposite. It liked him. And Tom had to admit he liked the way it made him feel to be so objectified and studied, yet cuddled close while he slept, almost like something precious. 

Tom’s cock aimed straight up his stomach. The Bigfoot bounced, chuffing. It leaned down and twirled its tongue along the underside as if curiously tasting it like he had the Twinkie. 

Its lips were as strong as a man’s hand, squeezing and pulling at him as it explored what, to it, probably seemed like a small, strange thing, even though Tom was a little bigger than average size. Blunt teeth squeezed the sides of his cock. He arched his back with a shiver, for a moment almost afraid it would bite and hurt him, but it was more a tease than anything, as if it had wanted to see just how solid his cock really was. 

It pulled at his balls, and while it wasn’t painful enough to make him cry out for it stop, it was enough to make him wince. He’d never have let a man get away with that, but the feeling of being claimed and helpless to stop this gentle giant from touching him that way made it pleasurable. It tugged again and he gasped, his cock throbbing. 

Its curious fingers moved up his body to touch his nipple, shoving the shirt that had slipped down a little out of the way to do so. It poked, pressed, then pinched as if it were a toy it wanted to figure out how best to play with. 

Being explored this way, discovered one lick and prod at a time, was so strangely erotic. His cock ached to be touched again, but the creature was fascinated with his nipples and the thin patch of dark hair that spread between them. It pulled gently at these hairs, maybe comparing them to the field of fur that covered its own chest. 

As it slapped gently at his stomach, Tom watched its massive cock grow, protruding dark and wet from the fur, to bounce between its legs. And god damn, he wanted to feel it again.

_What is happening to me?_

He had no answer for himself, but the only thing that seemed important was that it _was_ happening. He used his sock foot to push his boot off and finally free himself of his jeans. Then he leaned up and took off his flannel, then peeled off the T-shirt, leaving him completely naked. 

_I’m offering myself up, aren’t I?_

He was, and he didn’t care. 

The creature seemed to understand. It put its hands on his shoulders and raked them down his body, down his arms, touching everything that had been newly exposed to it. And Tom knew exactly what he wanted to do, and what he thought the creature would like, too. 

He sat up and put his hands on its chest, gently pushing. It resisted at first, but he softly said, “Down you go. Come on, lie down for me.” He was careful to move slowly and easily. Finally the creature lay on its back. 

Wondering what the hell he really thought he was doing, Tom straddled the creature’s upper thighs, his balls resting against its much bigger fur-covered sack, their cocks pressed together. His seemed so small compared to the creature’s, but it didn’t make him feel inadequate the way it might have with another man. It excited him how big its cock was against his own. 

Tom rocked forward, their silky skin sliding together, then he wrapped both of his hands around the base of the creature’s cock so he could completely circle it and slowly stroked it from base to tip. The creature bucked its hips, keening. Had it never done this to itself before?

If it was the only Bigfoot, maybe it hadn’t been touched by another in years, if any others left the area or died out. And another exciting thought occurred to Tom. Maybe it had never touched another human or been touched by one. Its reaction made that easy to believe. 

He pumped his hands up and down, then held his own cock against it with his thumbs as he stroked. 

The thick cock in his hands pulsed and throbbed with life, and the creature’s movements showed his impatience. He wanted more. 

Tom stared into its eyes. _Only you’re not an it, are you. You’re a he. And you need a name._

The creature grabbed his arms and squeezed, not hard enough to hurt. Tom rose up and seated himself in front of its cock this time. He reached one hand behind to rub it against between his cheeks and the curve of his buttocks, while he used his other hand to press his cock into the soft, thick fur low on the creature’s stomach. Tom couldn’t get enough. He thought could fuck the fur and nothing else and come howling like an animal. 

“Bigfoot,” he finally said it out loud. “Is that what I should call you?” It almost seemed too formal. And the word had become associated with the crazies who brought back bear fur or made wooden footprints to try to make a buck. “Maybe . . . B.F. for short? Or just Biff?” 

Tom chuckled. “Biff, my Bigfoot lover. Sounds like a terrible Enquirer headline. _I Was Bigfoot’s Love Slave. Also, I Named Him Biff_.”

No. Bigfoot would do for now. Bigfoot chuffed and bucked his hips, hard enough that Tom bounced into the air. Its hands pinched and prodded at Tom’s chest and then tapped against his cock in a way that almost made him come then and there. 

“Okay, okay.” Was he ready to do this again? He was sore, no denying that, but he still felt wet and sticky enough. The thought of it thrilled him, but he wasn’t sure if his body was up for it. 

He dragged his jeans close enough to get the lube out of his pocket. He squirted a generous palmful into his hand, emptying half the tube, and reached behind him to thoroughly grease Bigfoot’s cock for good measure. 

The creature’s eyes closed and his mouth dropped open. It let its hands slap against its chest a few times, halfheartedly, as if the pleasure made him forget himself. A weird sort of pride swelled Tom’s chest that he could get that kind of a reaction. 

He rose onto his knees and actually had to get one foot beneath him to raise up high enough he could tilt his body and start to take the creature’s cock inside him. 

The first burn was more intense than last night. He hissed and lowered himself slowly, wincing when the creature pushed up, eager for more. 

“Easy . . . “ Tom’s body accepted him, but not without a little pain. _Just the right amount of pain._ He could take a twinge here or there for this much pleasure. He could take that every damn day. 

When he lowered himself fully, his ass resting on fur, he grinned. “That’s . . . amazing.” He pressed his fingers against his cock to feel Bigfoot’s stomach, the warmth of his skin and fur adding another element to how great it all felt. Then Bigfoot grabbed his wrists, eyes widened as if to say _come on, man_. 

Tom rose up, the thick slide of the cock inside him making him shudder, and settled again, his thigh muscles straining and doing all the work. Strong hands still gripped his wrists and kept him from touching all that glorious fur or his own cock. Soon, he was being pulled up and forward and pushed back, helping him ride. Each time Tom took him in completely, he rocked forward to feel fur against his sensitive cockhead. 

Bigfoot let go of his wrists and pounded his chest, hard. _Ohn ohn ohn._

Tom grabbed his own cock, but Bigfoot slapped his hands away from it to grab him instead, fingers wrapped almost too tight around him and pressing him into his fur. The grip gave almost no slack, so every time Tom rose up, he was limited to how far up the creature’s cock he could move, the pull against his own cock incredible. 

“Oh, Jesus,” he said, twisting his fingers into the thick fur on Bigfoot’s sides. 

Unnaturally strong hands grabbed his thighs and urged him to move faster, pulling him up and down and then pushing him down hard as Bigfoot sat forward and thrust up and rocked two, three times, a keen higher-pitched than any sound he’d made so far cutting through the night. He held Tom against him as he came, not allowing him to move an inch until he collapsed back onto the ground, mighty arms flopping limply to the sides. 

Tom squirmed where he was impaled and still held in place, rubbing his cock as much as he could against the furry stomach. He grabbed himself and once again had his hand slapped away and replaced by a bigger, stronger one that rubbed him hard against the fur beneath it. The Bigfoot chuffed at him, almost in encouragement. 

Tom tossed his head back and rocked forward, the friction and the unpracticed movement of the big hand against him enough to push him to the brink. He shouted as the pleasure slammed through him, and he tried to shout again but the sensation of his muscles clenching around the huge cock inside him sent a ripple of new sensation through him that took his breath. 

Bigfoot’s hand kept pressing and bouncing against his cock, and when he got too sensitive for that he laughed and grabbed the hand with both of his. “Stop, stop,” he said with a laugh. _I'll lose my mind._

The sun must have been breaking the horizon, because it had gotten light enough he could fully see every detail of Bigfoot’s face, and the affection he could have sworn he saw there was not only unexpected, it moved him. 

“This . . . you . . remarkable,” he panted.. He’d discovered the elusive Bigfoot. If by discovered one could mean grabbed by said discovery and spirited through the woods and fucked until all he knew was pleasure. Discovery didn’t seem like the right word. 

Tom let himself drop forward and ease himself off Bigfoot’s cock so that they were chest to chest and face to face. “I’ve either gone completely insane, or I’m the luckiest person on the planet this morning.”

Lucky. If he brought people here, become the first person to actually discover a Bigfoot, his days of driving a truck to put food on the table would be over. Interviews, a book, a movie, appearances at those conventions where they talk about Bigfoots and aliens and lizard people. He’d be rich, kind of famous, and maybe set for life. 

It was the kind of thing he might have jumped at not too long ago. Today, he worried whether he’d be able to find him again after he finished this trip. What if someone else discovered him? They’d have to figure something out to make sure he stayed safe, and hidden. 

Nobody else would know a thing about this, if Tom had his way. 

Bigfoot’s arms wrapped around him in a tight embrace, so he let himself rest his head against his neck, the musky scent of fur and the comforting warmth of it enough for the moment. He’d have to hike back to the highway before dark and figure out how to make sure Bigfoot understood that he’d be back, and soon. 

He had vacation time he could take. He could haul some food with him, some supplies. He could spend his vacation right here, and spend a night here instead of in a motel every time he drove through. Heck, he’d hike for miles even if he only had a few hours to spare to have this feeling again. 

As the sun rose fully in the sky, Bigfoot sat up, hauling him with him, and started to walk away. “Wait,” Tom called out, as he grabbed up his clothes and the backpack. “Don’t--”

Bigfoot chuffed and stopped in what appeared to be an entrance to a cave in the rock of the bluff. Tom turned and looked back in the direction he thought they’d come, and realized they _had_ gone uphill last night, and a lot farther than he'd imagined. He could see over the trees, and far in the distance, the thin strip of highway where his truck sat at a rest stop. He hoped the worst that would happen would be a ticket, and not cops out looking for him. 

They wouldn’t come this far. It’d take him at least an hour or two to hike back before dark, and he’d be lucky to get to his destination on time because he hadn’t been far enough ahead of schedule for this. He didn’t look forward to the walk, but at least it meant Bigfoot was far enough away from the highway he wasn’t going to be easy for someone to stumble across. 

He’d stayed hidden for years, so Tom decided not to worry about that. And he’d figure out a way to make sure Bigfoot knew he was coming back. When he decided to leave, whenever that would be. 

Bigfoot grunted at him and raised its arm toward the mouth of the cave.

“That’s where you stay during the day, huh? That’s your home?” Tom, still naked, took a step in that direction. 

Bigfoot pounded one hand against his chest, then turned and led the way. Tom followed him into the cool of the cave and figured if he was late delivering his load on this one trip, his boss would just have to get over it. 


End file.
